You Can't Kiss a Dragon
by msllamalover
Summary: Charlie/Fleur, Charlie/OC. "He's too married to his job, he thinks sadly, and she deserves more than that."


_Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!  
A/N: __The greatest thanks to SoUsay234, RoseScor90 and Half-Blood Metamorphmagus for all of their help with this story, and to Tat1312 for helping to Frenchify Fleur. Without them, it would just be one tangled mess of ideas and spelling mistakes! __This is one of those oneshots that fills me with fear. I have no idea how it will be received, so if you favourite, please review!_

* * *

Charlie's only eighteen when he goes to Romania. Sure, the Burrow is his home, but this _feels _right; they all stay on the reserve, all the keepers. Not that there are many of them - it isn't a very big reserve. There's only Rabbie, Olga, Alf, Gertie, and Jerry who have quarters in his block. The reserve used to be owned by the Ministry back at home, so he's almost pleasantly surprised to find that they are English speakers – even French, Beauxbatons educated Olga and Romanian, Durmstrang taught Alf.

They're a cheery bunch, and within a week, Charlie forgets that he and Olga are the new kids. It feels like he's been there for years.

Rabbie's got a thick Scottish accent, and the loudest laugh he's ever heard. In a way, Rab reminds him of his brothers, and the two are immediate friends. Olga looks like a delicate flower when they first meet; all dark hair and skin like snow, long eyelashes over blue eyes. But she shirks his idea, pulling up her sleeve to reveal cuts and scars, from Beauxbatons' Abraxans that she'd _never_ have been big enough to handle by herself.

* * *

Charlie has a lot in common with his friends at the reserve. They're all outside sort of people. When the weather's good, they sit outside and eat dinner, and when the weather's bad, the huddle under blankets around a fire. His mum can't believe that they actually _like_ doing that, but it's his life, and it's great.

Jerry's their medic, and it's only the frequent trips to see him for burn-relief that show how dangerous their job is.

That doesn't bother him either. There's something thrilling about studying the dragons, beautiful, misunderstood creatures, swooping around on his broom while they're sleeping, to get a better look.

'Back so soon, Charlie?' Jerry asks, finding some salve for the redness on his neck. 'If you're not careful, I'll start to get the wrong idea.'

Charlie just shrugs, wincing as the effort pulls at his neck, but he smiles a little. 'I thought medics were meant to be caring individuals.'

'I was in Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff,' he replies. His touch is gentle though, and within minutes the pain is gone. 'So...'

'So, what...?' Charlie asks, wanting to get back to work. But he knows from past experience that the salve needs at least fifteen minutes, so he has no choice but to wait.

Jerry sighs. He's older than Charlie by six or seven years, and he reminds him of Bill. There's something distinctly _older brother_ about Jerry, but if he wasn't there, Charlie'd know a lot less and would be a lot more scarred than he is. 'You've been here nearly three years, Charlie. You'll have noticed that the rest of us have had some ... _interactions_?'

'Oh!' Charlie grins. 'That's where you're taking the conversation? You sound like my mother. I'm not interested in romance, Jerry.'

'Olga is,' Jerry states, and doesn't leave Charlie room to question him, just shooing him back to the Ridgeback he was working with before.

* * *

He watches Olga a little more closely after that. She's his best friend, besides Rabbie. They get along, like he did with Tonks. Unlike Tonks though, he rarely thinks of her as a woman, with hips and breasts and laughter like bells. He supposes it's because she's doesn't mess around like the girl's he's known before, she has her job to do and she does it with fascination. They're great friends, but she's just Olga, and he can't help but think that that's all she's ever going to be to him.

(But in a way, that's fine. She never gives any sign of wanting to be any more to him that that either.)

* * *

The first time he sees Fleur, he's explaining dragons; telling her how dangerous they are, how difficult this task is going to be. Her eyes flash just as dangerously as any dragon he's seen as she thanks him tightly for his advice, and flounces off.

He's just not used to talking to girls like her. He's used to Dora Tonks, who laughs almost like a man and has even less elegance than Charlie does, and Olga-from-the-reserve, who chucks on her thick boots and takes the burns without wincing.

Sure, Fleur's gorgeous (he'd be stupid to try to deny that), and her voice is s_exy_ when she wishes him goodnight and thanks him for his help. But she's also ridiculous, and Charlie wants to hit himself of being tricked by her.

She had batted her eyelashes and made him forget how to say no. (Like it matters though, Harry knows anyway, and he'd wager anything that the other two will by morning.)

Charlie's worked with a lot of powerful creatures in his time, but somehow, Fleur feels like the one he should be watching out for.

* * *

He tells Olga about her, and the two laugh loudly about how she managed to dupe Charlie into giving her extra help.

'She was a few years younger than me at school – thought she owned the place then too,' she grins, 'I'd imagine she's got ... better than she was when she was younger?'

He punches her lightly on the arm. 'Come out and say it, Ol, the innuendo doesn't look good on you!'

She looks solemnly at him for a moment, face shining with mirth, before she bursts into peals of laughter and declares him 'a giant prat'. Charlie laughs too, because she's hardly wrong.

'_Oh la la, Charlie, mon amour!' _She pretends to swoon and flutter her eyelashes. For a second, Charlie gets caught up in her accent too, but he catches himself and laughs. Maybe there's just something about French accent that makes him a bit stupid.

Rabbie joins them a little later, and he's more sympathetic. 'Women!' He booms a cliché, 'cannae live with 'em, cannae live without 'em!'

Charlie's eyes flicker to Olga, but she just shrugs and grins. 'I think I'd be able to live without a 'Fleur Delacour' in my life, Rab,' she says.

'I think I'd be able to give it a fair go,' Rab replies, a spark in his eye. 'Charlie can't disagree, can ye' mate?'

'I dunno. Might be inclined to agree with Olga.' Charlie considers it seriously. Sure, Fleur's beautiful, but they hardly seem compatible. He doesn't really stop himself to think of the fact that he hardly knows her; she's beautiful, she's part Veela and she used that to trick him into giving her extra help, and somehow that tells him all he needs to know.

* * *

Bill starts talking about her a lot in his letters. She starts off as 'a girl at work', and Charlie doesn't even consider Fleur. Why would he? He's as good as forgotten her, nearly a year later. He imagines she's probably in France, mooching off some poor, rich sod. Mostly, she only enters his mind when he's being mocked.

_There's this girl at work, Charlie. She's new and beautiful, and I'm taking her to dinner on Friday night. Merlin, I bet I sound like a sap, don't I? I can't help it though. You'll understand one day. If all goes well, you'll have to come home to meet her. Fleur, she's called, Fleur Delacour._

Being close in age, Bill was one of Charlie's best friends growing up. And he just cannot imagine Bill falling for someone so ... supercilious. He's embarrassed later, but he does fleetingly wonder if she's got him under some sort of enchantment.

_Will you be bringing anyone back with you? _Bill continues in his letter,_ No one caught your eye? You've mentioned Olga a fair bit before, and Gertie. And Jerry, I suppose, if you feel so inclined..._

After he gets Bill's letter (his mum sends him a fair few with the same suggestion, but he tends to just skim that part of the letter), he looks around the reserve. Gertie is never an interest – he doesn't think Rabbie would be very happy if he decided he fancied the girl he was shagging. There's Carolina, the Romanian Longhorn expert, who came a few months back and who seems nice enough; but she reminds him of his sister and it'd be weird to date her for that reason.

And then there's Olga, who his mind always returns to when his family send him letters asking: she's lovely. They've been working more closely; hell, they're _close_ friends. Not the same 'close friends' he was with Tonks (who he still keeps up a loose friendship with.)With her, they were younger and just discovering themselves. They used to kiss sometimes, and experiment with love and sex, casually slipping in and out of romance as it suited them. He doesn't feel like that with Olga. Maybe it's because they're older, and he doesn't feel the need to experiment anymore.

He gets the natural urges sometimes, when he takes time to step back and actually look at things _other_ than dragons and his regular routine, and she's there, with curves in the right places and a massive smile.

But then, a long, furling crimson flame will snake past him, singing his arm, and he'll get distracted from romance again. Rabbie shouts at him to be careful, and Olga watches the fire with interest. She's not an artist (oh, far from it), but Charlie likes the danger and so does she. He can't disagree when she tells them that the fire's a pretty exciting part of the job. Rab shakes his head at the idea, and the three get back to work.

So the only female he has time to be interested in most of the time is the old, beautiful Welsh Green.

* * *

He gets a letter from Tonks too, telling him that she's going to get married to Remus Lupin and that he's invited to the wedding. She really wants him to go, too. He smiles widely. There's no bitterness, no sudden feeling of loss, of opportunities wasted. Tonks has never been able to hide her feelings, not even in writing, and she's clearly overjoyed.

He feels the same way. The way she talks about Remus makes him sound like a good man, the very best for her.

Though he's not really thought about it before, and though he puts no effort into making it happen, it suddenly feels disappointing that Tonks has found someone perfect for her, and Bill's writing about Fleur like they're two parts of the same whole.

He tends to do pretty stupid things anyway, for the thrill, but it's worse that day without him even trying. He ends up in Jerry's medical hut with a broken arm and a burnt leg. The others tell him off and tell him not to be a pillock. Olga waits until the others have gone to tell him that if he ever scares her like that again, it'll be more than his life's worth.

* * *

He doesn't see Fleur again until she's tucked into the crook of Bill's arm, his girlfriend of only a few weeks. She looks older, more mature than when he last saw her. The look in her eye is less petulant, less stubborn, as she looks adoringly at his brother. Maybe, he did judge her too harshly before.

He's not surprised; people grew and changed a lot in three years.

As Bill goes to get them drinks, he slides across from her in the booth, leaving room for Bill to sit beside her. Fleur smiles and it's radiant. She leans forward, and whispers in a voice that's still sexy, that being with the dragons has clearly not done his looks any harm.

He chuckles at that, but doesn't say anything.

'I know what you're thinking,' she purrs quietly. 'You're thinking that I'm just playing with your brother, but you are wrong. I love 'im.'

'I know.' Charlie admits, because he'd have to be a fool not to realise how loving her gaze is.

She doesn't pay any attention to his response. 'I 'ave met you once before, and I did not make myself very easy to like then. You must forget that now. Please?'

Charlie just nods. If she wants to forget it, he's all for that. He doesn't think Rabbie will be so quick – not when they all still find it so funny.

As the evening progresses, Fleur shows herself to be different than he'd expected. Sure, she's still a little self-absorbed, a little selfish, but she's nice enough, and she has a sense of humour underneath it all. She's naturally a flirt, a bit stubborn and not keen on hiding these things; she's kind of like him.

* * *

He thinks maybe he's got a tiny crush on her, because of how well her personality compliments Bill's, and even though he represses any need for romance, he might quite like that too.

But he returns to the reserve, and there's been a new arrival while he's gone. An Antipodean Opaleye that makes him whistle a low whistle, and say 'beautiful' a lot of times. Fleur is part of his life now, but he forgets about how beautiful she is, how much they've got in common, and any thoughts of her are replaced with wonder over this amazing specimen.

* * *

'Ever think about love, Charlie?' Olga asks, sipping on a butterbeer late one Friday evening. Rab and Gertie have gone to bed (though Charlie suspects they haven't gone separately, and they haven't gone to sleep), and Jerry and Alf buggered off to find more alcohol (it's not often they don't have to get up early the next morning, and they'd wanted to take advantage of it).

'Sometimes, I suppose,' he replies nonchalantly.

'I do too, sometimes,' she says softly, looking at him. He doesn't recognise the look in her eyes; it's different. It's not the adoring look he saw in Fleur's eyes when looking at Bill and it's not the laughter he usually sees there either.

'What do you think about it?' He probes gently, unsure of why or where the sudden softness in his voice has come from. They rarely have discussions like this, but when they do, they get dangerously close to uncovering feelings Charlie isn't even sure he has.

'Well,' she starts quietly, grasping her bottle, 'I think that maybe it might be nice, that, sometimes, this reserve takes too much from us. I love it here, but there's so little ... time, for other things.'

'Rab and Gertie manage...' Charlie suggests, but he's not sure where this has come from. He's not thinking about the consequences of this conversation. He thinks that maybe he unconsciously wants this, wants to start something. He's spent a lot of time without a girlfriend, he's almost forgotten what it was like to have lips on his, a body in his arms. Suddenly his mouth feels dry.

Olga's staring at him, but he's staring at her too. 'What do you think about love?' she asks, reaching to rest her hand on his, where it sits on the table.

It crosses his mind that Jerry and Alf haven't come back, and he's glad that they've probably found some bar off the site. 'I think that I have no idea how it works, and that, maybe, I'm old enough that I should start learning.'

She's leaning towards him, and he's moving closer to her. He can see how pretty her face is, how soft the blue is in her eyes. He doesn't know whether it's just the alcohol in his system, but he's not had that much, and it seems like maybe he wants this, really.

They meet in the middle, over the table, in a kiss that is so light; a test, almost. She pulls back from him, her small smile widening to a grin. She searches his face for something, quite what, Charlie doesn't know, but she cups his face and leans in again.

Charlie feels a little dizzy. He doesn't get a chance to think of Fleur, but she's there on his mind later, when Olga blushes shyly, face pink and lips big, and kisses him again quickly, excusing herself to bed.

Charlie thinks about it very quickly: she's Olga, she's his friend, his closest friend, and he doesn't know if he loves her - if he even fancies her. She managed to make his mind clear of everything but her kiss, those magnificent lips. He feels like he needs time, but he's had so much time that it doesn't quite make sense.

'Ol!' He calls after her, walking to where she has stopped. 'Fancy another drink?'

She grins again, and flies back into his arms.

He wakes up next to her the next morning, and wonders what the hell to do.

* * *

When Charlie writes to Bill about what's happened, he doesn't quite know what to make of his response.

_Is she your Fleur?_

He thinks about it for a long time. He sees her the next day, dressed for work, in thick boots and heavy clothes with short hair scraped away from her face and he doesn't know. He doesn't know what to do, whether she's his Fleur or not.

The fact always remains that _she's not Fleur_. Not even his Fleur equivalent; he's not thinking about that. She's not Fleur, who seems like she's so like him, whose enchantment he still sometimes finds himself under when she crosses his mind.

Olga isn't Fleur. Charlie knows that he might never find his Fleur. Bill and Fleur, the way it's presented to him, seem like they just clicked, straight away. Rab and Gertie, their relationship doesn't seem to be difficult. Olga's his best friend, they get on like a house on fire, and he enjoyed kissing her, touching her, more than he'd expected to.

He's too married to his job, he thinks sadly, and she deserves more than that.

He tells her, and she laughs.

'Don't flatter yourself, Charlie,' she replies, resting her hand on his chest, 'So am I. But you can't kiss a dragon, can you?'

She does have a very good point, with which he can't argue. Besides, they're only twenty-five and young enough that they don't have to be as serious as Bill, who's getting married pretty early. Neither of them wants that. He expects everything to change because of this new 'friends-who-kiss' thing, but it doesn't. They're just that – friends who kiss, and touch, and give in to each other sometimes.

* * *

'Your arms are all burnt,' Fleur murmurs as she dances with him at her wedding.

He chuckles. 'Of course there are, it comes with the territory. Not a fan?'

She strokes one absentmindedly. '_Non_. _Je n'aime pas.'_

'_Quel dommage_.' He smirks when she looks up at him in shock.

'_Tu parles francais?' _She asks as they dance. She'd danced so many songs with Bill that when Charlie cut in grinning, it had taken her a moment to remember that it wasn't just the two of them in the world, and that they should probably spend some time with other people too.

'_Oui_, _un peu.' _The truth is, Olga and Alf thought it would be fun to play games with the French they knew, teasing him about his new, exotic sister-in-law. It seems like a waste to not use a little of what he picked up.

They twirl in silence for a few seconds, the song not even half finished. Over Fleur's head, he catches Bill's eye, as he dances with Ginny. He still looks euphoric, and Charlie's not surprised. Though he hadn't been sure about Fleur before, her and Bill are a natural couple. After his accident, she'd been there and erased all doubt. He wants to tell her that he's proud of her, but somehow that doesn't seem right, so he doesn't say anything.

'Could your plus one not make it?' She asks, and he already knows her well enough to know that she's not going to take a shrug-off as an answer.

'No, she couldn't get away from the reserve – Swedish Shortsnout arrived a couple of days ago.'

Fleur almost stops dancing, but Charlie keeps them moving. Clearly, they'd wasted no time in informing her of his bachelor ways. 'Who is she, Charlie?'

'Olga, she's ... a good friend of mine,' he struggles to explain because he feels like it'd take longer than one dance to tell her properly. She seems to understand.

'That's a shame.' She smiles as the dance draws to an end. 'Will you tell me about her later?'

He nods (because Fleur seems to be one of those people that he just couldn't say no to), 'But the others don't – '

'No one else will find out. Not even Bill.'

As the dance finishes, she smiles and hugs him tightly, before returning to Bill.

He doesn't get to tell her about Olga, and he would've done; it would have been nice to have someone else know about her, because he has grown fonder of her than he'd thought possible.

Not long later, there are Death Eaters and disarray.

* * *

'So, this ... Order, you're part of, is fighting him?' Olga asks after he told her what had happened at the wedding. Charlie nods. 'Can I be a part of it?'

Charlie studies her face. They're sitting on his bed, very late in the evening, when the others have gone to bed, sick of the sweltering heat outside. She has no responsibility in this fight, she's never even been to England. He's supposed to be recruiting foreign wizards, but not her. It doesn't feel right to drag her into this.

He shakes his head. 'I – I don't think so.'

She creases her brow. 'Why in the name of Merlin not? You're meant to be recruiting people to help in the fight – recruit me. I want to help.'

'Olga, you didn't know how serious this fight was until a few weeks ago. It might not even affect you,' he's unsure of where his argument's going, but he persists, 'I don't want you to get hurt.'

She blushes. 'It's already affecting me.'

'How is it?'

'It's affecting you, and I – I've become attached to you, Charlie,' she tells him with complete, embarrassed sincerity, and for once, there isn't a laugh beneath the surface.

He's grown attached to her, too. Their understanding still stands; their work, and research comes first, but somewhere along the line he got attached to her. He can't imagine a day without her now. She's always there, more so than Rab or Jerry or Alf, she's the woman he thinks of when he thinks of women, not Gertie, not even Fleur anymore. Olga's here and she's real, and he might not be in love with her, but he doesn't want to lose her, all the same. He feels like if he could find the words to say that to her, to explain his feelings, she might change her mind. He's never been good with words.

She seems to understand his silence, what he can't say, and what his face gives away.

* * *

_Mr and Mrs Bill and Fleur Weasley,_

_How was the honeymoon? Bet you had a great time, you little lovebirds! I wish I could come and see your pictures, but I can't get time away again so soon. We've got a few new dragons here; Chinese Fireball, and two eggs we're expecting to hatch. They should be beautiful little things... sorry. I've got myself talking about dragons. I'd better stop or this letter will be ridiculously long!_

_I hope the cottage is to your liking,_

_Charlie_

He sends them the note on a whim, knowing Bill will appreciate it. But it's Fleur who replies.

_C'etait magnifique, Charlie! And the cottage is beautiful, aussi. I hope you and your Olga are both well. Is now a good time to tell me about her?_

_Our love,_

_Fleur_

He tells her almost everything, in a letter that's probably the longest he's ever written. He tells her all about Olga, how they've got this agreement that their work will always be more important, but that she's his best friend now and he loves being with her, and about Rabbie and Gertie, and how he doesn't know whether he wants, or is ready for what they've got, about how even years ago, Jerry thought he and Olga were a couple, and how he doesn't know if she's His Fleur, His Tonks, His Gertie. He doesn't know any of the important things. He's never been big on romance.

He feels a bit silly, spilling everything out, on paper, to Fleur. He's only met her three times. He has no reason to think she'll understand, or keep it to herself. He trusts her, even though he's got no reason to. But he's got no reason not to, either, and he's always gone with that logic.

She doesn't tell anyone, but her response isn't particularly helpful either.

_Are you sure this agreement is firm? It sounds a lot like you love her to me. Being in love doesn't mean you have to give up your job and spend all your time gazing into her eyes. Not all women want that, Charlie. Have people explained love to you? You should not have let them do that. It's not always love-at-first-sight, like it was for Bill and me. Maybe you won't even know you're in it, until it's too late!_

* * *

'You're w_hat_?'

'I'm not doing anything, I tried to.' Charlie tries to explain to Rabbie what he'd asked Dumbledore.

'Why, mate? We not good enough fo' yeh anymore?' Rab asks, shouting over Elliot, the Shortsnout that's become Charlie's favourite.

'You know it's not that,' Charlie checks the sleeping dragon's claws, 'but my whole family is fighting You-Know-Who... I feel like a bit of a bastard for not being there.'

'Aye, I'm the same,' Rabbie agrees, and Charlie's glad that they're both in the same position, neither allowed to go home just yet. They're recruiting for when it matters most, and plans are already in position for when they're called to fight.

'Will Gertie fight?' Charlie asks, no preconceptions and no prejudice. If Gertie chooses not to, they all respect that. Gertie's American, so she's even further away from the problem.

'You bet! I couldn't keep her away if I tried.' Rabbie grins boyishly.

Elliot starts to wake, the sleeping draught, brewed for these specific medical purposes by Alf, wearing off. Alf's a master potioneer, specialist in dragons and magical creatures, and technically their boss, though he doesn't act like it. He is nearly fifty, and he'd been there for longer than any of the others. Charlie and Rab race for the exit of the paddock.

When they are in a safe location, they stop, panting for breath. 'C'mon, we'd better see if Alf's prepared the next batch of sleeping draught, those remaining claws won't check themselves.'

Elliot's due to be released into the wild, in a very isolated spot where they can still monitor his progress. They don't believe him in his letters when he talks about his gentle nature, but he is; as gently natured as a dragon can be, in any case.

'Olga told me you didn't want her to fight.'

'I didn't, but Ol's a big girl. She can do as she pleases. It's not like her to be so stubborn, but I couldn't talk her out of it.'

'I'm not surprised, Charlie,' Rab replied, more considerate than usual. 'It'd be like me trying to stop Gert from fighting with us.'

'It wouldn't though, would it?' Charlie asked, 'Olga and I are just friends, and you and Gertie are more than that.'

'D'yeh think I'm an idiot?' Rab stops him when he starts to walk away. Charlie's face is confused, so he continues. 'You haven't put a label on it, but Charlie, we work with dragons. We're an observant bunch, we have to be.'

'You think we're together?'

'Aren't you?'

Charlie thought about it. 'We are, and we're not.'

'Well, either you've found one of the few women with no desire for proper romance, or children, but I know Olga as well as I know you.' Rab smiled. 'Tell me, Charlie, who initiated this ... affair?'

'Olga did, Rab, in the beginning.'

Rab nods knowingly. 'Careful, right?

* * *

Toward the end of March, they get an arrival, a baby dragon of only a few weeks old. From the looks of it, he's a Horntail-Ironbelly cross (which sounds illegal enough in itself), without the mother nearby (for which they mostly blame the bloody poachers). Charlie isn't surprised, he abhors the illegal poaching, but if the mother were anywhere near as awe-inspiring as her young, they'd have gone for her immediately.

The poor little thing is in an enclosure close to the medical hut, as he's already more volatile and afraid of humans than almost any dragon they've encountered before.

The only one of them he'll let anywhere near is Olga.

When the rest of them as much as try to enter the enclosure, he takes to the skies on his little wings, and threatens fire, or moves to the far end of his space and breathes smoke from his nostrils. When Olga arrives with food and medical checks, he moves away and snorts angrily, allowing her to lay the meat down. He is, as far as a scared young dragon can be, affectionate.

It doesn't stop Charlie from being afraid whenever she has to get too close. They watch her as she goes in. When it's Charlie up against these things, he throws himself in the deep end, the thrill of the risk flooding his senses. But when it's Olga, it's different. Charlie thought that Rabbie was the only one who knew something was going on between the two of them, but Jerry places a hand on his shoulder and whispers, 'Alf wouldn't have given this the go ahead if we didn't think she was going to be safe.'

Charlie knows it's true, but it doesn't really help this time. The dragon, Falkor they call him, moves dangerously close to her. Olga stands still, and lets him pad in circles around her, nudging her back with his head (the dragon was already the same height as Olga). After a long five minutes, he moves away from her again, allowing her time to escape, the biggest smile on her face.

Even though she's fine, she gets immediately swallowed into Charlie's arms. Yes, he's easy-going, and all his friends are great, but he's a private man, quiet about himself. He's practically crushing her in his arms, but she doesn't seem to mind.

'What does this mean, Charlie?' She pulls back a little, and she smells like dragons and sweat, but she's looking into his face with sincerity and a twinkle in her eye.

'It means,' he echoes her words from years before, 'that if you scare me like that again, it'll be more than your life's worth.'

* * *

A few weeks later, they get the call from the Order to get back to Hogwarts as fast as they can. By the time they arrive, it is to lead the last wave, to clear up the weakened Death Eaters. By the time Charlie arrives, his brother is already dead.

He looks around for Olga, but she's not there in the hall when it's finished. He can't find her, and he can't find the energy to search for long. Bill moves to hug his father, and Fleur glides over to him. For the first time he sees her and she doesn't look flawless. She looks devastated, and exhausted.

She reaches up on her toes to press a kiss into Charlie's forehead. 'Ça va?' He nods and shakes his head at the same time. 'How many came?'

'Seventeen with me,' Charlie replies mechanically. He sees so many red heads in this hall, crouched over their brother, who isn't smiling and isn't going to wake up because _this isn't a joke_. And then there's a loud wail, fresh and tiny and new.

He looks with fresh despair at Tonks' body, close to Remus', and Andromeda, clutching Tonks' squirming baby. He feels like vomiting. Fleur's hands are clasped around one of his, and he looks to Bill, watery eyes meet watery eyes and he nods sadly.

Fleur is Charlie's friend now, after letters and trust and destruction, and the two make their way over to Andromeda. (Not Tonks, if they make their way over to Tonks then all this becomes far too real.) Fleur lets go of him, and sits delicately beside Andromeda.

'M-May I?' Charlie gestures towards the baby, far too tiny, far too like Tonks already, to be an orphan. She surrenders the child to him, and lets her head fall to Fleur's shoulder as the tears come.

The baby gargles in his stiff arms as he hugs him close. He wants to think that Teddy is who they were fighting for, all of them, and it helps. Fred would've loved any kid of with the capacity for pranking that comes from having the metamorphmagus skills that Teddy and Tonks shared. It helps, but there's so much destruction. Charlie wonders how anyone can think that dragons are terrifying and feared, when human beings consciously create pain like this.

Teddy starts to whimper, and Andromeda stands and takes him back. She thanks Fleur earnestly, takes one last look at her daughter and son-in-law, and leaves with Teddy.

'I can't go back over there. Tell them I'm sorry?' he asks Fleur, 'I need to find Olga. I've seen most of my other friends, but not her – '

'She's not here?' Fleur asks, and it's a small relief for them. But really, all that means is that she hasn't been killed.

* * *

Eventually, they find from Rabbie that she's in the hospital wing. Her injury is serious, but apparently not life-threatening enough for her to need to be sent to St Mungo's - yet. Alf, Jerry and Gertie already had to return to the reserve, but they're safe and well and that's enough. Rabbie's still sitting by her bed.

He goes to visit her straight away, dropping a long, hard kiss to her forehead before sitting in the seat the other side of her bed. 'What happened?'

'My hand.' She's biting back tears. It's Rabbie who tells him that she was hit with a Sectumsempra, a deep, dark gash across her forearm means she'll probably never have the use in her right hand again. The Death Eater got her from behind, so it's not her wand arm. That seems like a small prize now; she won't be able to go back to work with the dragons, not without the full use of both hands.

He wants to hold her until all of this goes away, but he can't and it isn't going to.

'Are you okay, Charlie?' she asks softly. Apart from cuts and bruises, he's physically fine. _He'll_ be able to go back to work.

He hesitates. 'My brother ... Fred ... he ...' Charlie finds that he can't even complete his sentence.

'Shit, Charlie.' Rabbie gasps, and he's striding round to pull him into a hug. It's not awkward, but Charlie breathes heavily. He should be doing this with his brothers, his real, blood brothers, but he can't face them, not yet. He wasn't there, when the wall fell. He wasn't there to save him, and the weight of guilt is starting to press on his insides.

* * *

Charlie spends the first two weeks after the battle with his family. After that, the three of them go back to Romania. He doesn't know how long they'll be there. He'd been away when it mattered the most for his family, and he doesn't fancy being away for so long next time. No matter how much he loves his life in Romania (and he does, a lot), his presence at home helps his mother, and he almost doesn't know Ron, or recognise Ginny as the child she was, and that breaks his heart.

Alf's already told him that he can have all the time off he needs, and since Olga's not able to do what she would have done before, he's practically moved into her quarters with her, helping her when she needs it. She's starting relearning the art of potion-making, but she doesn't love it like she loved being with the dragons, and Charlie knows that.

'Olga,' Charlie starts slowly as a thought occurs to him, 'there's a reserve in Wales, it's a lot smaller than this, tiny in fact. They look after the few Welsh Greens still living there. They tried to get me when I left Hogwarts, and they still write once every few years. We can go there. You'll be able to get to St. Mungo's to see the experts, if you want to, and it'll be quieter and you can recover.'

'Oh Charlie,' she whispers, her eyes full of tears, 'but you love it here. I can't ask you to leave.'

'I do love it here, it's my home,' he agrees. 'But you love it here too, Olga, and it won't be my home without you working here anyway. Besides, Romania hasn't always been my home.'

Olga's crying now, and it's the first time he's ever seen her cry. He doesn't know what to make of it, whether he's said the wrong thing.

'But,' he rushes, 'if you want to stay here, or go back to France, or somewhere without me... whatever you want.'

'Why would I want to be anywhere without you?' she asks. As she lets her tears fall, Charlie becomes acutely aware of the slight dampness on his own face. 'I don't trust anyone else to help me, you know.'

Charlie nods, and smiles. 'I'll send them a letter right now then.'

He doesn't feel sad about leaving, not as sad as he expected to. He's going to miss Jerry and Alf, but he doesn't think that Rab and Gertie will stay for too much longer anyway, not now there's a gold band on Gertie's finger. Rab thinks they'll go up to the reserve in Scotland, because he's got links with the MacFusty clan.

It wouldn't be home without Rabbie there, nor Gertie, and definitely not without Olga.

* * *

He doesn't tell his family that he's moving to Wales until he's there, and he certainly doesn't tell them about Olga. It seems like a waste to tell them in a letter, when he could see the shock of both things, written across their faces in a way that will be highly amusing.

When they're settled – they don't stay on site at the reserve this time, they're older and wiser, and they buy a small house in the middle of nowhere, connected by the floo network to the rest of the world – the first place Charlie takes Olga is Shell Cottage.

'_Charlie!_' Fleur cries, and throws herself at him in the biggest hug she can manage. 'You did not tell us you were coming to stay!'

'We're not, Fleur.' Charlie grins. As Fleur pulls away, she looks at him in confusion.

It takes her a second to notice Olga, her arm still in a brace. '_Bon dieu!'_ Fleur exclaims, and Olga laughs.

'_Bonjour_, Fleur,' Olga greets, accepting the hug that comes, wincing silently as Fleur gets just a little too close to her arm. The two witter on in French for a while, and Charlie tries to understand, but he only picks up a few words.

He grins when he manages to translate some fragments in his head. He knows enough to understand the _je l'adore_ she murmurs, and it doesn't really matter that they've not said it to each other yet, not in so many words at least. Charlie thinks that moving in together, in a different country, because it's what they both need, probably says it well enough.

And it doesn't matter that Olga might not be his Fleur. He doesn't really want a Fleur anymore. She's his Olga, instead.


End file.
